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Last Thoughts
We face each other, like we've done so many times before, his expression full of anger, green eyes flaring in the dim light. I look at him, my face a blank, carefully crafted to keep anything showing through. None of my anguish is evident to any onlooker. None of my pain. I even checked myself in the mirror before heading out. Nothing.
Except for my eyes.
Wrinkles, shadows, bags, every affliction one could name. Bloodshot, haunted, soulless. Once blue-gray, now the color of ice, of darkness, of hate, of anger.
Of guilt.
And now he stands before me like an avenging angel, glowing incandescent into the shadows of the alley. Blue-green, angst, pain, depression, manifested in the glowing aura that surrounds him like holy flame. Shadows deepened, hidden secrets revealed, layers of mystery unearthed and exposed for all to see. Hands clenched into fists of glowing light, able to smash through concrete, now unstoppable.
By those hands, I will die tonight.
He stalks toward me, angular face thrown into sharp relief by his ki, a mask of hate. Dressed in black for the occasion, none of the usual tunic and pants combo. The only thing familiar about his is the ever-present bandanna, still holding the shaggy ebony hair out of his eyes. Green demonic eyes, his pain not hidden, but in full force, lighting them up with flame and passion. Hatred against me.
I stand quietly, gazing at him full in those hellish eyes. No regrets for choosing this path, no matter how unmanly oyaji might think it. No fear of death. Nothing except the pain and anger.
I watch his two hands as they raise a sleek katana to the light. Powerful, callused from intense training, able to destroy a building with the merest touch. I look at my own. Blood on them, never to be washed off, no matter how clean the skin is. They ended the best thing of my life.
Ironic that I was the one always accusing her of losing her temper, when I ended hers with mine.
I see it again. I watch the ki-blast fly from my hands, streaking towards the bandanna-clad youth I face now, pure energy, pure rage. He's gone too far this time. He needs to be punished.
She didn't.
It's too late. The glowing bolt shoots into her body, taking the blow meant for him. It throws her across the yard, next to the pond. The sharp *crack* when her head hits the rock resounds in the sudden stillness.
For one eternal moment, time stops. The world stops turning, drops of rain never reach the ground. Air freezes in our lungs as we stare at the still form by the pond. And all the while, I stare at my hands, once just there, now hated. Hands that were never meant to take an innocent life, her dreams, her hopes now scattered to the winds.
And suddenly the world comes alive again, shaking off its picture-frame state and marching ever forward in time. Birds that start to sing are startled into flight by his cry, my cry joining in, her family's, an eerie orchestra of pain, terror, and grief.
Even before the doctor gets there I know she's dead.
It was my fault. I can't blame it on my opponent, for his hands aren't stained with her blood. Rather, it's my pride, my ego, my temper, which are my true enemies. They've risen in me before, tried to take me down, but I've always pulled through. Not this time.
I've submitted to their influences, and now I pay the price.
He looms before me, a beacon of deadly energy. The katana is now charged with crackling blue light, startling me slightly; it takes a lot of power to manipulate ki like that. One strike from the imbued blade with take my head off my shoulders, one clean, quick cut.
One swift kill.
He looks at me, his expression grim. I nod slowly, and he raises the blade, brings it down. As I watch, unflinching, time seems to stall, to stop, the gleaming metal moving through molasses. I can easily avoid it, but I don't. I watch as it sinks into my neck, triggering time to speed up again. A brief flash of pain, then darkness.
I'm sorry, Akane . . .
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He looked at his former rival, then at the blade he wielded, still glowing with ki, not a drop of blood marring the shiny finish. His hands began to tremble, and as numb fingers released the handle, letting the sword clatter to the ground, he sank to his knees, shoulders shaking.
~owari~
Notes: *sigh* Shala-chan's right, I need Prozac. And for those of you who are wondering, Ranma is not commiting seppuku as the word implies; he didn't disembowel himself, did he? *dark grin*